A Retrieved Life Worth Living
by WarOfChange
Summary: When Alex has nothing left he sets out alone to make good of whatever life he has. If only his life would leave him alone. But maybe a friend or two wouldn't be so bad. *swearing, no pairings, slight violent themes*
1. prologue

**Hiya people, its WarOfChange, with my very first story! now its just a prologue, but its a start. I'm planning this to be a K-Unit/cub story - I really like those :P .****This story does ignore the whole Alex-goes-to-America thing, though Jack did die and MI6 has been using Alex constantly.**** Tell me what you think of it (Reviews would be awesome) that would be great- even if its just a 'cool' or 'I like it' or 'good story' I would really appreciate it, even flames are welcome. I apologize in advance for anything wrong or grammar/spelling errors so if you see anything tell me and I will try to fix it. ## THANK** **YOU FOR CLIKING MY HUMBLE** **STORY!##**

**DISCLAIMER:I do not own any of the characters or any thing reconisable from the books; I am but borrowing them for a plot from my imagination.**

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Run, vault, dodge, roll, run... It was becoming very tedious, yet never letting up on its danger factor. Run across the street, vault a parked car, dodge the bullets, roll behind the dumpster... no where else to run- he was caught at a dead end.

* * *

"Oi, Red, kill or capture?"  
"Kill the brat, 'e needs a painful reality check."

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Quiet, listen, think, run... It was all very cliche. God knows loud = dead; quiet he must be. Listen in on conversations, sure it may not be nice, but these guys were making it too easy. Think of an escape plan, let's see- dead end, dumpster, at least seven guys... humph. Well, better figure out a way to run.

"Two on one side, two on the other. Start with the limbs, then the stomach, then non-vital organs. I want the brat to suffer."

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Think, hurry, think... think, hurry, think... think, hurry, think...

* * *

"Shoot in 3... 2... 1... NOW!"

* * *

Evade, climb, hurry, ow... So it wasn't very nice to let four men accidentally shoot each other... but it was their fault! He was just evading to survive. Climb up the wall... focus, hurry, they'll spot you any second now! But it was hard... oww- everything hurt. He really was fucked up. He may have to find help after this... Double-fuck.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hiya, peeps, it's WarOfChange. Just a reminder I made some adjustments to the first chapter (prologue) so check that out in case you missed anything (including the AN) ***I would also like to thank Hope x for being my first review and follow - Thanks dude, you are awesome!*** Also sorry in advance for the lack of action in this chapter, but i needed to explain some things.**

**DISCLAIMER:I do not own Alex Rider (if only...)**

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A Mrs. Tulip Jones sat at a large oak desk in a nondescript bank. Gazing out the window she contemplated. She contemplated an enigma. The enigma of Alex Rider. He was just so different and slippery, they couldn't pin him down. So many times she had offered him protection when he so obviously needed it, after all his past would inevitably be his demise, but every time he would walk out of the office without emotion or explanation. Sure, of course, she would use him in a mission again, he was just too valuable- but why didn't he see the reasonable pros behind it?!

Just this morning on the news there was a report of a shooting in an ally not too far away from the 'bank'. The incident was just after 10:00 p.m., not long after Alex had left HQ after another failed attempt to re-recruit him. No doubt the shooters were after him and no doubt he had gotten away.

Over the past few months after the mission in Egypt, MI6 was slowly trying to flush Alex out and make him come to the organization's safety and protection, but ha was too resilient. Young Alex, now 15, was on the streets running from everything all alone. Damn that boy, that stupid boy. Why did he not see reason and come to MI6? After all, they were the only ones left who could protect him now. Jack was gone. Ian was gone. His house was gone. His money and name were gone. His protection and security were gone. Yet still he runs and retaliates.

And so a Mrs. Tulip Jones sat alone, contemplating the enigma of Alex Rider.

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Damn, oww, fuck, oww, damn. Breathe, in, out, step, in, out. Alex was hurting, for sure. The men last night really did a number on him - more than usual. After escaping from the ally onto a neighboring rooftop he collapsed behind a pile of ropes too exhausted to try and ensure his escape. Now waking up alive, he kind of assumed the men gave up their hunt or were really mediocre at their job. But with consciousness also came pain, lots of it. Checking his body over he concluded with what little brain that wasn't clouded with pain that he had multiple gun afflicted flesh wounds that were still dripping scarlet occasionally, bruised ribs (maybe broken) blossoming purple and green, cuts and scrapes littering his filthy skin, and a throwing knife protruding from his thigh. How he missed that, he had no idea. after de-blading himself he tore what little fabric of his shirt into bandages and tended to the worst of his wounds dazedly. Maybe he had a head injury too...

Sighing, Alex slowly explored rooftop under the midday sun. As he hobbled along he again questioned his decisions. OK, so maybe absolutely rejecting MI6 wasn't the brightest idea, but he was done with them. Even with Blunt gone they would never stop trying to own Alex. At first it was manageable, a few phone calls in fake sugar-sweet voices and handwritten envelopes telling him to get better soon and to come to the 'bank' whenever he wanted to talk. Then it was a black, sophisticated car that would bring a stoic man knocking politely at his door. none of these were effective for at the time Alex had shut himself in with no plan to come out and deal with MI6. Then there were men with a key coming in to look for Alex. They were very thorough, he remembered, except in the category of looking form trapdoors under rugs, amateur mistake. When those strategies didn't work they, disguised as police, would ambush him on the road during the rare moments he was outside. Though most of their attempts were futile, they did manage to wrestle him in a couple of times. When they did eh would just stare at Mrs. Jones silently as she explained the situation and the benefits of joining them. She ordered the guards away to give the illusion of safely to Alex. Then she would close her eyes and sigh, pretending to be patient. That's when Alex would slip out, completely undetected. Eventually he tried to go home one day after a meeting with the Devil's spawn, only to find his abode burnt to the ground. At an internet-café he found his account and name nonexistent. So he reasoned that if MI6 were going to plat dirty, so would he, be doing exactly what they were doing to him and his only choice. He disappeared.

Alex Rider became a common street-rat. he begged on street corners and stole from markets. He rummaged through trash, salvaged what he could, accidentally scared mothers, and was half starved on a regular basis. But he didn't care, he was his own boss and he had no one controlling him. He was happy_._

Unfortunately that did not stop MI6 or his past from recognizing him. Over the past few months, he had been ambushed, chased, and stalked by countless organizations, but still he remained resilient.

But this time, though, this time the bastards really got him. Every other time ha could tend to any other wound ha sustained from his encounters with some assassin wanabes. But this time he was underprepared and caught off guard and damn, did it hurt. Only his mantra kept him going._ Breathe, walk, find help... Breath, walk, find help..._


	3. Chapter 2

Hiya, peeps, it's WarOfChange again with my 3rd installment of ARLWL. Thank you people who reviewed/liked/followed my story- it really makes my day to see those alerts. Keep giving ma feedback and I'll feel compeled to write more! :P

DISCLAIMER: I do not own AR or anything related. :(

Something was wrong, that was for sure, but Wolf couldn't place what it was. Walking home through the shadier part of town with his unit, he just had an abnormal foreboding. Of course, being an SAS soldier would you regular paranoia, but this was just crazy. Fox, Snake, and Eagle were all buzzed, due to prior agreement that no one would be completely senseless in this part of town, and were all acting like idiots...Eagle especially. Whose idea was this again. Oh, ya, Fox's. He would have to get revenge later... Wolf only had soda tonight and now he was thanking it for not hindering his awareness.  
"Hey, Wolfy, Wolfman, Wolf-io, what's got ya down in the hell that is... intelligent thought?" drawled a way too happy Eagle. "Cut it, Eagle. Just got a weird feeling, it's nothing."  
"Aww... ya sure, Wolfy?" giggled Snake. Giggled? Seriously, these were the men protecting their country? "Ya look kinda thinky!" he burst out laughing with Eagle and Fox. "My God, men, seriously we are almost to the flat, just hold it together a little longer, please!" Wolf, or Wolfy as he had been christened, exclaimed in false exasperation. "Aww, ya know ya love us, doncha Wolfy?" singed Fox while clasping his hands and beating his eyes.  
"Shove off, ya homo," he teased. "Aww... that one hurt dude, that one hurt...," the accused countered and returned to his previous conversation with the others.  
For now, dealing with his idiot 'friends' kept his mind off of his previous paranoia.

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_Step, in, out, alert... stay alert! Another step, come on, through this ally then you're on a major road, come on. Breathe, remember to breathe, in, out, in... in... out, that's it. God, stay alert, you could pass... pass... pass what? Oh ya, you could pass someone. Danmmit, stay alert, now!_

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"Hey guys do you hear something?" noted Fox, ever the ex-spy. Suddenly all the men where were on such an alertness that even the sergeant would be impressed. All heads snapped to regard an ally, echoing with the sounds of someone making their way to the exit of the ally. Analyzing the reverberations, Fox concluded that the someone was probably really drunk and chocking or really hurt.

* * *

_Step, breathe, in, out... wait. I-I-I heard something... someone? People...? I-I... need h-hel-help..._

* * *

The soldiers took a few hesitant steps forward, hands inching towards the concealed weapons all of them carried when off-duty under their shirts. Just five feet away from the alleyway a figure collapsed in front of them and all froze in shock. Before them lay a young man, completely bruised, beaten, and battered. He was of average, if not smaller than, average height with torn, thread-bare jeans a few sizes too big, an old aviator's jacket covering his bare chest, and his scruffy, blond hair was half tied up with a band, half tucked into am old mail-boy cap. It was obvious from the make-shift bandages littering his body and his state of hygiene and dress that he was hurt and homeless or on the run. After a stunned silence, snake, ever the medic and mother hen, finally snapped into action. "God," he put simply as he carefully rolled the mysterious boy over, noting how thin and pale he was. Intelligently assessing the wounds, still sluggishly bleeding, he muttered under his breath. It was clear that the boy needed immediate medical attention- he was too pale and thin, plus this environment put him in serious risk of infection.  
"Shit, Snake. Give me a run down," ordered Wolf after he had gathered his wits.  
"Well, he'll need medical attention, now, or he won't make it much longer. No time to get to a hospitable. I say we get him back to the flat. He probably already has some sort of infection and obviously malnutrition and dehydration."  
"Fuck. Alright, I'll carry 'Im. Eagle ,Snake, you run ahead and get the medical... stuff ready. Fox, you're with me," phrased the leader oh-so-eloquently, and so the troops set off.  
As Wolf gingerly picked up his charge, he was startled by the boy's weight. He must be, what, 16? 17? And here he was, not even as big as a pre-teen. God, this was all so fucked up. _What the hell am I getting into..._

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**So ya that's my 2nd chapter. Sorry for it being so short, but writing these things is pretty difficult for me so give me a break. Give suggestions and opinions in reviews (if ya don't mind). Thank you ! :D**

**also special thanks to :**

**Hope x : Tanks for the support, it means a lot.**

**Shamwow : Thanks so much for the review. I'll work on action and length just for you! :P**

**tsunasoraceillover : I know, right, but it fit with the story so... Thanks for the review!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hiya, peeps, it's WarOfChange here. Sorry for the weird update times - but I haven a life too -.- ... So ya. Well here's mt 4th installment of ARLWL - 3rd chapter. I will try harder on lenghth but it's hard... sorry :'(** BTW: italics are Alex's thoughths.

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own AR or anything related.**

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_God, when did it get so cold... and echo-y? Seriously, what the hell. Am I dead? Is this the afterlife? What, no scales deciding whether I go to paradise or hell? Ha-ha... no. That wouldn't work anyway, my life is already a living hell... God, I sound pathetic...  
_  
_So ya- cold, dark nothingness and I can audibly here myself thinking... Maybe I'm in a coma. I was really hurt if I remember correctly... was I? I really have no idea anymore... Well if I am in a coma, am I still in that ally? Geez, that would be a depressing picture...  
_  
_Maybe someone found me and took me to a hospitable. Ya, that would be awesome... but most would probably just leave me there. Fucking society, won't even help a homeless orphan. Maybe they thought I was diseased or was just sleeping... I mean it was dark out- right? Geez, if I'm in a coma, don't I have a right to at least be able to think straight?! Then again I never really did or do follow the rules... fucking karma..._

_Seriously! Can I just wake up now!? I've been mind-screaming for... what? Hours? Years- heh, what's the medical bill going to look like?... OK, not funny... But I'm lonely!... OK, so I've always been lonely- but this is just aggravating. I'm stuck im either a coma or death. If it's death, than this must be punishment- forever lonely, isolation, eternity to just think... Wasn't there a study or something that people who spend a lot of time thinking alone tend to be depressed and more likely to develop mental problems? ...Geez, brain, thanks for giving me the most useless information ever when I NEED ANSWERS!... Maybe I have already gone crazy..._

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Wolf was sitting on the recliner in the foyer of the flat he shared with his unit. They figured that instead of each one of them renting a place and barely living in it that it would be easier that they all bunk together. And so it was done.

They had picked up the street kid two days ago. Wolf could swear that he had seen that face before... he just couldn't place where. After all when would a SAS ever associate with a street kid? It was bothering him to no end. Right now Snake was checking the kid over for the billionth time in the last 24 hours. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that the kid was his unit member's own flesh and blood, the way he was doting over him. The kid, Wolf was going to have to find a better name for him- the kid sounded pretty blunt, was getting better. They had cleaned him up a bit, doctored him up, and force fed him enough to get his pate pallor up to a little-less-than-sickly-complexion, which was a huge achievement considering his state before. When Wolf had watched the sleeping juvenile, he occasionally twitched and muttered unidentifiable words, but it almost sounded as if he was trying to have a conversation with himself. Even Snake, when he wasn't locked in the kid's room, had reported that he was on the verge of waking multiple times. Soon enough they would get answers about this mysteriously familiar boy...

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_Oh! Come on! Let me wake up! There was just a guy in here. I was so close to figuring out what happened! Dammit. Gah, being stuck in here was so torturous! I'm done reminiscing about my life- and it's hell! Uggghhh... I'll just have ti figure out a way to get out by myself; I'm so done with this shit..._

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_And here's the mother hen now... _thought Wolf as he heard Snakes tromping from his position on the other side of the flat. "How is 'e?"

"I swear, he's almost awake, i just came out here to get some water in case he does," was the rushed response as Snake fumbled about the kitchen.  
"God, with you fawning over him, someone-s going to think you aren't sharing something...hmm, Mr. Slither?..." offered Eagle helpfully as he rolled off the couch, having just woken up from a nap.

"Ya, ya, whatever, got to go," concluded Snake, "He might already be awake!"

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_Wake up... now!... now!... no... now! Ha! I saw some light! OK... Agai- ooh- ohh- I heard someone... someone-s... What!? Pinch me!? Wai- OWW! Dude, seriously, I'm still bruised all over... sheesh, that hurt... I'll have to remember to punch whoever did that..._

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"Hey! Look, he just flinched. See- I told you pinching him would work," retorted a smug Eagle to a pissed off Snake.  
"Ye don't just pinch an injured boy! How would ye like it if I pummeled ye then pinched ye! I'll do it too!" threatened Snake, his Scottish accent becoming prominent in his anger.

Soon a full out argument was in play between Eagle and Snake with Fox trying and failing to calm the medic down. Wolf stood to the side, looking on with amusement untill his gaze fell to a small figure sitting up against the backboard of the bed, blinking owlishly at the scene before him.

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S**o that's my chapter. Tell me what you think I'm the reviews and where I should go with this if you want an opportunity to help me write the story! yaaa!**

**special thanks to:**

**mkoneill1816 : thanks so mush, I'll try to update regularly!**

**Sparky122sparks : :P 3 haha sure thing.**

**tsunasoraceillover : haha ya I know- but they were only buzzed...**


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